


Bedside Manner

by Filthy_Bunny



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Episode Tag: Personal, Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:12:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Filthy_Bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My remix of 'Wake Up Call' by Ceindreadh, post-ep to 'Personal' (2x17). Deeks receives some visitors to his bedside. Rewritten from Callen's POV and extended. Some snippets of dialogue are from the original fic. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedside Manner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ceindreadh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceindreadh/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Wake Up Call](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3048) by Ceindreadh. 



 

Callen flicked restlessly through the pages of the trashy magazine he had found in the waiting room. He had not yet had his morning tea and pastry, and was feeling a little twitchy.

“God, people actually read this stuff?” he muttered. “Around sick people, no less. Look at this; ‘Too fat to wed – a bride’s nightmare.’” He turned the page. A woman clutching a framed photo of a shi-tzu stared up at him from the magazine. “‘Psychic helped me talk to my Suzie one last time.’ How is it that people care about this crap, but not about what’s going on right on their doorstep?”

Callen abandoned the magazine and glanced up at his partner, slouched in the seat beside him with a deep frown on his face. Sam’s foot drummed against the floor, the resulting sound more urgent than the rhythmic beeping emitted by the equipment hooked up around the bed in front of them. Deeks may be in the clear, but Sam was still anxious. His hatred of hospitals would be ingrained even deeper after the events of the previous day.

“You okay, big guy?”

Sam didn’t answer, just kept looking from the sleeping figure in the bed to the display on the heart monitor mounted beside it, and back again.

“It was a close call yesterday,” Callen said.

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “Way too close.”

Callen knew what Sam was thinking about without having to ask. He was picturing another room in another hospital where the unconscious patient had been Callen, there had been significantly more tubes and wires and equipment crowding the bedside, and a few more bullet holes punched into the motionless body. He was thinking, too, of a sun-bleached rooftop and another shooting, a victim who never made it as far as a hospital bed. That particular loss was a wound that had not yet healed, probably never would, and every near miss brought back the pain only too easily.

Callen left Sam to his contemplation, knowing he would talk when he was ready. He stretched out his stiff limbs and rolled his head back on his shoulders as he thought grimly of all the new paperwork that awaited him at the office. Injury to a member of his team meant more than just a shock to the system and a reminder to all of their mortality; it also spelled out misery for Callen in red tape.

“G, this is a hospital. Don’t put your foot up on the bed.”

Callen turned to Sam and smiled. “I think the occupant is too drugged to notice.”

Sam replied with one of his patient-yet-disapproving looks, and Callen conceded, planting both feet back on the floor. He eyed the meal tray cooling by the bed, next to a ribbon-wrapped fruit basket. “So. You want the jell-o, or can I?”

Sam peered through narrowed eyes the tub of green jelly, then at his partner. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Callen nodded and raised his fist to Sam’s. “Dammit,” he muttered as Sam’s rock beat his scissors. “Best of three?”

“Not a chance,” said Sam, already reaching for the tub and spoon.

Callen sighed and started to ponder which sugar-rich treats he could pick up on the way to the office to make up for it. A movement on the bed distracted him. Deeks was stirring, a frown clouding his face as he shifted, half-conscious, and awakened the pain in his wounded chest.

“Looks like Sleeping Beauty is waking up,” Sam said.

“And without even a kiss from Prince Charming,” Callen replied.

“Prince Charming was from Cinderella,” said Sam. “But if you want to give him a kiss, be my guest.”

Deeks’ eyes were open now and he blinked several times, focusing on the pair waiting at his bedside. “Hey,” he said, his voice a sleepy croak. “Um, please don’t either of you kiss me.” His frown returned as he realised what Sam was holding. “What is it with you guys and my jell-o?”

Sam froze with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “Kensi told us you didn’t like jell-o,” he said.

“Wha-” Deeks spluttered.

“I think she punked us, Sam,” said Callen. His partner simply shrugged and carried on eating.

“Great. I save her life and this is how she repays me.” Deeks let his head flop back onto the mound of pillows.

“Oh well. Think of it as negative reinforcement,” said Sam. “Guys who get shot don’t get any jell-o.”

“It’s true.” Callen nodded. “I spent _months_ in hospital, and didn’t get to eat a single spoon.”

Sam turned to his partner. “And have you gotten shot since? No, didn’t think so.”

“Well then, shouldn’t I be eating the jell-o now as a reward?”

“No,” Sam mumbled, spoon in mouth. “I get to eat it, because I’ve never been shot.”

“You’re kidding,” said Deeks. He glanced at Callen. “He’s kidding, right?” Callen shook his head. “You’ve never been shot.”

“Nope,” Sam replied. “Never.”

“How is that even possible? You’ve been in, like, _every_ war zone, and now you fight terrorists as a day job. Plus you’re, y’know, kind of a _biiig_ target.” He held his hands out in front of him for emphasis.

Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Deeks an icy glare. “You want a new bullet hole? Just keep talking.”

“Oh man, come on. I wasn’t calling you _fat_ , I just mean you’re-” Deeks caught the hint of a smirk flicker across Sam’s mouth, and he sighed. “Thanks, guys, I really need you screwing with me to get my day off to a great start.”

He caught sight of the cellophane-wrapped basket by his bedside, topped with a spill of yellow and peach curled ribbon. He pointed a finger at it. “Did you guys-”

“No,” Sam said. “Sorry. We’re not really the fruit basket type.”

“Sam prefers flowers,” Callen deadpanned. “He wanted to bring lilies, but I told him it was a little morbid.”

Sam ignored him. “It was handed in for you at LAPD. Don’t worry, we had the bomb squad go over it.”

Deeks reached for the small envelope attached to the basket, and ran a jagged thumbnail under the flap to open it. He pulled out a card and examined it. “It’s from Frank, the manager at Sandune. He says... thank you. And he’ll have my coffee the way I like it when I get back.” He managed a weary smile before looking up at his visitors. “I know, I know. I can’t go back there.”

“You can go back,” Sam said, “just not every day. Or even every other day. You need to mix things up. Observe your own behaviour the way you would if you were staking someone out. If there are patterns, break them. Learn to be unpredictable. Even to yourself.” He leaned his huge frame forward in the plastic chair, face grave. “You understand why they singled you out, right?”

“Yes,” Deeks said. “I was the weak link.”

“Right. You’re only alive because that’s how they planned it. If they’d wanted you dead, you’d _be_ dead. We can’t allow our enemies to step in and take control like that.”

Deeks nodded. “Understood.”

Sam got to his feet. “I have to make a call,” he said. He placed the empty tub and spoon back down on Deeks’ meal tray. “Thanks for the jell-o. It was delicious.”

Deeks tried to glare, but he was still too sleepy. “Just so you know, when you do eventually get shot, I’m going to sit and eat an entire bowl of jell-o right in front of you.”

Sam paused in the doorway and grinned back at Deeks. “If I ever get shot, I’ll haul myself out of bed and _make_ you the damn jell-o.”

“You’re on.”

Sam retreated down the hallway out of sight, leaving Callen and Deeks alone with the continual _bip-bip-bip_ of the heart monitor. Callen eyed the dressings on Deeks’ chest. His injuries had required fresh stitches and dressings after he had staggered out into the parking lot to intercept Kensi’s attackers the evening before. Callen’s chest itched as though his own body remembered the rawness of the bullet wounds, the rub of the bandages, and was speaking up in sympathy.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“About... two inches tall,” Deeks replied sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about Sam.”

Deeks shrugged, which elicited a new wince of pain. “He’s right, though. I was careless. I put my partner in the line of fire. Set up the entire team. Things could have ended a lot worse than they did.”

“This isn’t just about making a mistake, you know.” Callen leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You know we lost an agent last year, right? Dominic Vail.”

Deeks nodded. “Kensi’s partner.”

“Right. He was still pretty new to the agency when he was taken. It happened while he was driving home from work, taking a shortcut through an empty lot.” He could feel Deeks watching him as he spoke, but he focused on his own hands, loosely clasped in front of him. It made talking about Dom a little easier. He knew that outwardly he appeared casual, even detached; it was the G Callen speciality, after all. But that emotional coolness was not always as effortless as it looked. “He must have used the same route regularly enough for his abductors to notice.”

“Kensi never told me the details,” Deeks said quietly.

“She wouldn’t. Losing a team member is something none of us ever want to repeat.” He met Deeks’ eye. “Just because he was inexperienced, that doesn’t mean Dom deserved _any_ of what happened to him. All Sam wants – all any of us want – is to make sure that everyone on the team is as safe as they can be. And like it or not, you’re one of us now.”

Deeks smiled. “Thank you.” He paused, looking down at his hands, at the card from Frank at Sandune still clasped between his fingers. “I know you guys have all been looking out for me. I’m going to do my best to return that favour. I promise.”

Callen nodded, warmth in the blue of his eyes. “You’re doing all right, Deeks.” He got up and stretched again. His desk – and the day’s paperwork – was waiting for him. “Take it easy, tough guy. We’ll check in with you again later; Kensi too. Oh, and I did bring you something.” He tossed the gossip magazine onto Deeks’ lap. “Enjoy. And make sure you get some food into you. You’ll need all the vitamins and nutritious goodness that jell-o can provide.”

Deeks picked up the magazine, his expression brightening. “Awesome. I love this one. Mmm, ‘Too fat to wed’...”

Callen shook his head in amusement and left him to it.


End file.
